Monster You Made
by Dark Kaneanite
Summary: Angsty, deathy thing.  Don't read if not your cup of tea ye've been warned.


The light was harsh as the florescent bulb flared to life and he closed his eyes, tilting his head down to curtain his face with his hair. The stiff leather that covered his face completely was stifling and he tore at the elastic band; ripping it and a few brunette curls from his head savagely. With a heavy thud it fell to the floor and he took a deep breath; raising his head slowly as he hesitantly opened his eyes.

The dirty, cracked mirror in front of him showed multiple reflections of his pale skin and mismatched eyes; spider webby sub cracks fanning out like skeleton fingers across the reflections skin. To his mind each line and jumped image was a scar inflicted by his brother so long ago and he felt a lone tear well up in his right eye; the heavy, salty liquid clinging precariously to his lashes before falling to its singular death on the peeling tiles on the floor.

He heard his father whistling as he moved through the shack of their home; the sound high pitched and grating to his ears to point where he wanted to cover them to block it out. The door knob creaked as it turned and he hurriedly bent and retrieved his mask; fitting it back into place as the wood door swung open. The rotund form of his father filled the door and his falsetto voice filled the room; making him once more want to cover his ears.

"My boy, what has you out of bed this late?"

Silent as always he looked at his feet; the question was rhetorical, he'd learned at an early age that his father didn't want to hear what he was thinking. His stance must have pleased his father because a small pudgy hand rested on his arm and he fought the urge to shrink back.

"Go to bed my son, tomorrow things will look better; tomorrow we go and confront your brother; lay bare to the world what a cruel monster he is."

Obediently he nodded his head and left the bathroom; the light dying as he walked further down the hall to the glorified closet that he claimed as his room. Still it was better than the basement; the spiders didn't bite as much as they did down in the dank cellar and there seemed to be fewer cockroaches that ran across his sensitive skin. His bed was little more than a cot, but it beat cold concrete any day and as he eased his weight down onto it he stared at the ceiling of his room; more tears slipping down his concealed cheeks.

Anger replaced the sadness that had swept him and he growled as he pushed up himself back into a sitting position. He didn't want this life; he didn't want to be hidden away from the world. He'd clung to the childish dream of being a fireman; to save people and have them happy to see him instead of shrinking back when they looked up the red and black masked visage that he showed to the world when he was permitted to leave the house.

Instead he was a weapon of destruction, molded by the hate of his father for his only brother and severe beatings and constant reminders of how his brother would rather have him dead than live with him twisted his mind until he didn't know right from wrong and he'd cause many atrocities because of the burning hate and fear that ate him alive. His father's voice floated through his mind and he closed his eyes again; hating that his world was nothing that he could control, that he was turned into a monster by his own flesh and blood and left to the cruelties of his own father.

Moonlight spilled through the torn curtains and he watched it turn his skin almost a translucent color; his eyes welling again as he moved his hand out of the light to reside once more in the darkness. It seemed to him that he'd always be in the dark; his scarred body and face to hideous to be seen by anyone but his father, the one person that didn't shrink back from him.

"Monster…" he croaked out as he turned over to his side to stare at the wall.

Sleep never did come to him, at least on the form that allowed one to wake back up from. As the morning light spilled into his room it washed across his still form, drying crimson words were painted on the walls by his own hands as a blissful expression graced his face.

_Erase this monster I've become, forgive me for all the damage done. I'm begging for mercy, I'm only the monster you made me._

_**A/N: So yea, kinda angsty, but hey it's something as I know that I've not been alive to post here recently. The fic was inspired by 'Monster you Made' by PopEvil. And of course when I hear monster I automatically think of my beloved BRM. I apologize if I brought anyone down with this, but it wouldn't leave me alone.**_

_**Anyways, thanks to all my readers, and hope you have a good night, day, or whatever and like always I don't own anyone, and obviously it's not real as the BRM is still around causing chaos and looking utterly delish on tv. But I'm not making any monies offa this, so if ya sue you'**_


End file.
